


Do I Look Okay To You?

by rookiewithachance



Series: actual 2015 be more chill (mostly boyfs) [3]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depressed Michael, Depression, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Stay safe y'all, and loves michael very very much, it's described in semi-detail but only the immediate aftermath, jeremy is Trying His Best™, we do not actively see it happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 15:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rookiewithachance/pseuds/rookiewithachance
Summary: There was silence on the other end of the line, but Jeremy had been on the phone with Michael enough times to recognize the way it felt when Michael was trying to stay quiet. Without mentioning anything through the phone, Jeremy grabbed his keys and made his way down the stairs and out the front door, beginning the short walk to Michael’s house.“Do you wanna talk about it?”On the other end of the line, Michael tried and failed to suppress a sniffle, taking a shaky breath into the receiver. “No. I don’t know what I’d talk about anyways.”AKA Michael is struggling with himself and Jeremy, who has no idea what he's doing, tries to mediate as best he can. Supportive angsty boyfs





	Do I Look Okay To You?

**Author's Note:**

> this sprung from something I mentioned in passing in Stars In His Eyes, how Jeremy would get late night calls from Michael when he was feeling really bad, and would get to Michael only to see him self harming. I wrote this because I hate myself and my son and I'm procrastinating this huge 10k+ oneshot that I'm also working on. You can expect that hopefully soon, but for now please enjoy my sad sons trying their best
> 
> the day that jeremy stops calling michael Micah is the day i die

Jeremy felt confident blaming all his sleeping problems on homework—he normally could fall asleep at a reasonable time, and had no problems doing so. However, junior year lived up to its expectations as the toughest academic year, and midterms were fast approaching. He was up far later than his body would have liked, as he always is, working on an essay for his English class.

He stared at his computer screen, starting to zone out, when he felt an electric buzzing sound. Turning around in his chair, he glanced over to where his phone was ringing on his bedside table. He’d kept it there to charge, and in hopes he would be less distracted. Rationalizing that he needed a break anyway, he stood, walking over to pick up the call. However, right as his hand hit the phone, the ringing stopped, and his home screen faded back to normal, a “Missed Call from Micah♥” notification staring back at him.

… Alright…? It was kinda late, but Michael had always been more of a night owl than Jeremy, so he wasn’t all that surprised to see his boyfriend up at this hour.

Jeremy lingered, waiting a moment before going back to his desk. Just as he had expected, it didn’t take long for the phone to start ringing again. Michael’s face replaced Jeremy’s lock screen photo (which, to be fair, was _also_ Michael, but this was a different photo), as if he didn’t already know who it would be. The only people who ever called him were Michael and his dad, and since Jeremy was at home his dad could just come up and talk to him. If he had been awake at this hour, that is, which Jeremy figured he wasn’t. Which only left one possibility.

Unable to contain a smile, Jeremy unplugged his phone and raised it to his ear. “Hey, Micah.”

“Uh… h-hey.”

Jeremy’s **protective boyfriend alarm** immediately started making several different noises. “Hey, hon. What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wr-wrong, I’m fine.”

“Michael, I can hear you crying.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, but Jeremy had been on the phone with Michael enough times to recognize the way it felt when Michael was trying to stay quiet. Without mentioning anything through the phone, Jeremy grabbed his keys and made his way down the stairs and out the front door, beginning the short walk to Michael’s house.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

On the other end of the line, Michael tried and failed to suppress a sniffle, taking a shaky breath into the receiver. “No. I don’t know what I’d talk about anyways.” A pause. When he spoke again, he sounded frustrated. “God, I’m so sorry, this is stupid, I don’t even know why I—”

“Micah, wait!”

A click from his phone signified that Michael had, indeed, hung up.

Picking up his pace considerably after that, Jeremy all-but ran to Michael’s house from there, every failed attempt at calling Michael back only hiking up his panicked heartrate. It wasn’t… uncommon that Michael would call him, upset and crying, but he always managed to weasel the problem out of Michael so they could talk it out; that’s what he knew Michael needed, and was something he could do. This, however, was new. And it scared Jeremy in ways he had only dreamt up, jolting out of bed in a cold sweat and tears he had shed in his sleep dampening his eyelashes.

He clamped down on his own thoughts, doing everything he could to keep his overactive, morbid imagination from catastrophizing the situation further. _Just get to Michael’s house. Get there first, everything else comes later. You can worry over him later, just… be there first._

Once he got to Michael’s street, he ducked through a few backyards in order to take the back entrance to Michael’s house. It was the door that took him directly to the basement. Michael’s room. There was a hidden key near the door, buried in the dirt of one of the flowerbeds in their backyard, and he wasted no time getting the key out and jamming it into the lock. Once the door yielded to him, he burst through and down the small flight of stairs, throwing open another door, this one unlocked. He scanned across the basement, noting that Michael’s bed and the beanbags near the TV were empty. So where was he?

His attention was drawn to the door nearest the stairs on the opposite side of the room, the ones that likely led to the rest of the house. It was slightly ajar, light seeping through the crack. As Jeremy approached, he could hear muffled sobbing.

Well, Jeremy had found him.

The door let out a soft creak as Jeremy pushed it open, trepidation in his every action. He wanted to make sure Michael was okay, but Jeremy was completely out of his element and, honestly, a little freaked out. Okay, a lot freaked out. But when he saw Michael curled up on his bathroom floor, his back to the lip of the bathtub, all conscious thought faded from Jeremy’s mind.

Michael had taken his sweatshirt off, as it was laying in a crumpled heap near the door. That left Michael in a plain black tee shirt and the same baggy pair of jeans he had worn to school that day. His hair was damp and a mess, as if he had just washed it, and his glasses sat on the floor next to him.

In one hand, he had a small piece of metal that Jeremy didn’t have the mental resources to discern. He followed Michael’s line of sight, the eyes he saw hazy and unfocused, to the inside of Michael’s right arm.  

Leaping into action, primarily through panicked instinct, Jeremy rushed over to Michael, getting down on his knees next to him and grabbing the hand that had the razor in it. He held Michael’s wrist, prying his fingers open, and Michael blinked at him, as if only now noticing him. “Jeremy?!” He sounded terrified. “What are you, why did—”

Unsure of what to do with the razor once he had it, he threw it behind him onto the floor, reminding himself to dispose of it later. For now, though, he clasped Michael’s hand in both of his. He went to speak, he _knew_ he needed to say something, but when he opened his mouth, nothing happened. There was a long moment where they just stared at each other, Michael’s faded brown eyes meeting Jeremy’s watery blue ones.

Jeremy swallowed, gripping Michael’s hand tighter. “Are… are you okay?”

His words hung in the air for a moment. Michael scoffed, tugging his arm until Jeremy released his hand. He gripped at his jeans, taking interest in a few specks of blood that had hit the floor. “Do I look okay to you?”

Jeremy winced. Okay, yeah, he deserved that. “I…”

“Why did you come, Jeremy.”

It didn’t sound like a question. Michael’s voice was flat, unexpressive. Hollow, almost. He just sounded tired. It made Jeremy’s hands shake.

When he still couldn’t think of something to say, he opted instead to place a hesitant kiss to Michael’s forehead before getting up to rummage around in the drawers of Michael’s vanity. He had been here enough to have a general idea of where the first aid stuff was. He pulled out some gauze pads and an ace bandage, having seen enough of Michael’s injuries to know that simple band-aids weren’t going to cut it. Wow, okay, poor choice of words. Scratch that whole train of thought.

After a moment of deliberation, he grabbed some disinfectant spray too, just to be safe.

He turned back to Michael, who was still staring at him. The faintest hint of an expression crossed his face as Jeremy walked back over to him, sitting down on the floor in front of him and silently asking for his arm. What Jeremy saw in Michael’s face in that moment could only be described as betrayal. A hurt, angry kind of confusion. But he didn’t fight, and extended his arm towards Jeremy.

Jeremy tried not to focus on how _marred_ Michael’s skin was, instead dedicating himself to the act of patching him up. He decided against the spray at the last moment, thinking that Michael wouldn’t appreciate the sting of it. So he covered the cuts with gauze, wiping away some of the excess blood in the process, and wrapped it all up with the ace bandage. Once it was secure, Jeremy held Michael’s wrist and dared a glance back up at him. Michael was glaring at the floor, some point off to Jeremy’s right, and refusing to look at him. He only looked back at him when Jeremy kissed his arm, right over the bandages. The expression Jeremy had seen before reappeared, and Michael yanked his arm back, gritting his teeth.

“ _Why_ did you _come_? Why do you even _care_ , Jeremy?”

The anger in his tone stung, but Jeremy didn’t miss the way Michael’s voice shook. A few tears fell down Michael’s face, and he struggled to try and wriggle away as Jeremy moved closer. “You shouldn’t have done that, Jeremy, I’m not worth the time, I’m—”

“Beautiful.”

Michael froze, glancing back at Jeremy with wide eyes. “You’re beautiful,” Jeremy repeated, a small smile spreading across his lips. He brought a hand to Michael’s face, brushing a hair away so he could rest his hand on Michael’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Michael huffed. “Why are you sorry? You’re not the freak who takes a razor to himself the moment things get tough.”

“Neither are you.”

Silence droned on between them, Michael doing everything in his power to keep himself together. Jeremy kneeled over him, tentatively wrapping his arms around Michael’s shoulders and holding him close. He wasn’t expecting Michael to hug him back, but he didn’t care. That’s not what this was about. It was about allowing Michael to fall to pieces when he needed to, and giving him the reassurance that Jeremy would always be there to hold the fragments together. Even if it left him with a few abrasions of his own. Michael, to him, was worth that and so much more.

A broken, heart-wrenching sob tore itself from Michael’s chest, and his arms came up to wrap around Jeremy’s back, pulling him into a crushing grip. Jeremy just held him tighter, too, as Michael buried his face in Jeremy’s chest.  They stayed like that for a while, Michael’s hands grappling at fistfuls of the back of Jeremy’s shirt, Jeremy’s fingers carding through Michael’s wet hair, cradling his head like he’s something precious.

After what feels both like an eternity and the blink of an eye, Michael pulled away, rubbing at his eyes a little too harshly with the heels of his hands. “M’sorry,” he muttered, his eyes still covered.

Jeremy just shook his head, wrapping his fingers around Michael’s wrists. Not to pull his hands away, but just to keep him grounded. Remind him that Jeremy wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t be,” he said, giving Michael a loving smile when he glanced at him between his fingers. His hands drifted away from his face, and Jeremy took the opportunity to lace their fingers together. The way Michael held his hands was harsh, but Jeremy held them back with equal ferocity.

“C’mon,” Jeremy eventually said, breaking the silence between them. “Let’s go to sleep.”

“But what about…?”

“Eh” was all the response Jeremy had. “I’ll text my dad. And school won’t miss us for a day. You come first, Micah.”

Tense, Michael nodded, and allowed himself to be led over to his bed. Jeremy told him to get something more comfortable on, and while Michael was distracted, Jeremy quickly went into the bathroom to retrieve the razor. A voice in the back of his head told him that he wasn’t Michael’s mom or some shit, and that he shouldn’t be hiding something from Michael, but Jeremy figured that Michael’s health and safety trumped other codes of ethics.

He wrapped it in some toilet paper and threw it in the trash, since flushing it didn’t seem like the best idea. He made sure to text his dad a PG version of what was happening, while he was thinking about it. As he was emerging from the bathroom, he saw that Michael had stripped himself of his jeans and crawled into bed as he was, fingers tracing up and down the bandage on his arm. Jeremy followed his lead, taking off his own jeans and situating himself under the covers behind Michael, getting settled into the sheets.

They had known each other long enough that they communicated their wants and needs through means other than words. The way Michael had been curled up on the bed, facing the wall, was Michael’s way of saying he just wanted Jeremy to spoon him. Jeremy, all-too happy to oblige, snuck his arms around Michael’s waist and pulled him close, his nose tickled by Michael’s hair. He smiled, loving the way Michael smelled.

“Jer?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks… for, uh, this.”

Jeremy kissed the back of Michael’s head, nuzzling comfortably against Michael. “Anytime, Micah. And, hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. Like, a lot.”

It took a moment for Michael to respond, and when he did his words were so quiet Jeremy could have easily missed them. “I know,” he said. “And I love you, too, Jeremy.”

Jeremy held Michael close, and placed gentle kisses into his hair until they both drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> this is, in my opinion, not my best work, BUT I'm still proud of it because I literally wrote this in a day so...... 
> 
> also the big fic I'm working on isn't gonna be in the modern au series that these are from. It's a ~fantasy fic, so it's gonna be off on its own, but it is something I am very excited to show off once it's done. so stay tuned ;)
> 
> i'm on tumblr at lifehateslemons, come scream about how michael deserves love at me


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